Highs and lows of historic SF pride

By Montana Yaley
aka The Youngest One

On June 26, 2015, gay marriage was legalized in all 50 states. I read the news and expected a joyous occasion for all. That was not the case. A long, wonderful, emotional, anxious, weekend ensued.

My parents have raised me to be accepting of all people. I am so thankful to have been taught to love and not to hate. I guess many others were not taught these lessons. On June 27, I noticed all the hate toward gay marriage and to the LGBT movement in general, especially after we posted this celebratory picture of me and my dog. It didn’t take long for people to express their discontent.

Montana

The hate was not directed toward to me. Still, it haunted me. And surprised me, but not in one of those good “yayy, cool” surprises, but in the “ugh, crap, ouch,” surprises. People I knew who I thought were accepting of others were, in fact, not. The message I kept reading on social media was “hard times are coming.” What?! I thought hard times were finally coming to an end.

The stress from reading all the hate caused me sorrow on what should have been a happy day. I don’t understand how LGBTQIA (or anyone different from the so-call “norm”) could handle all this intense, persistent bullying.

The next day–June 28– was Gay Pride Parade in downtown San Francisco. My anxiety grew to the point I had panic attacks. I was sure there would be some sort of hateful protest relating to religious beliefs that God says marriage is only for a man and a woman, which honestly I think is a load of crap because the Jesus I love and admire loves us all! Anyway, the parade started off with the Dykes on Bikes. As it proceeded I took a break from thinking about all those horrible words swirling on social media and looked around me.

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I opened my eyes to what seemed to be a whole new world, a world that is filled with nothing but love and happiness and acceptance.

People were proud to be weird and gay and different. Laughter filled my ears and joy spilled into my heart as people screamed “love wins” and “love conqueering” (a clever play on words).

Gay Pride is a celebration that allows everyone to be whoever they really are or whomever they want to be.

I wish that people who don’t agree with the LGBTQ or any minority would attend a pride parade because I truly think it would open their eyes to a love they have never seen before. Pride rooted out all the anger in me.

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And I won’t stop fighting until equality is not just legal but accepted. I guess what they say is really true… Love Wins… Always.

eds. note: In respect for their privacy, the Bride and I don’t often write about the four people who are our best friends, our pride and joy and the foundation for most of what we think and do with this crazy life of ours: our kids. Our oldest–we call her The Mayor– is a frequent commentator and participant of this site. Recently, The Youngest One, the author of this post, has joined us in acts of volunteerism like planting trees for the urban forest, which led to her being dragged onto this blogosphere. Today’s post represents her own contribution of her own volition, to chronicle a moment of history.

“I don’t know why this is affecting me so much,” she told us.

“Because you’re human,” we said. “And, God uses our emotions to stir us into action.”

We hope you enjoy this post as much as did.

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6 thoughts on “Highs and lows of historic SF pride”

    1. Thank you Bart, I’m glad you enjoyed it 🙂 I’m so happy you and Russ are in my life because you two are the coolest!

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